Saturday night my friends and I go to Lo-Fi (an artsy fartsy indie hipster club in Darlinghurst that’s good for after hours) and at the end of the night I couldn’t find my friend Ellen.
Sunday morning text:
Later that night at The Winery:
Behind those innocent smiles are some plans of future misbehavin.’
“Let’s go out.”
“I have work tomorrow at 8am.”
“So?”
“Good point.”
Gay Sundays at The Beresford Inn
Michael asks some random girl who walks by us:
“Excuse me, what ethnicity are you?”
“Indonesian.”
“Stop being pretentious, you’re Filipino. Bitch please.”
Excuse the craptastic iPhone camera
Referring to the coat check guy:
“Look at this guy. Using his job to blow every guy who comes to the counter. Dumb opportunist. *Rolls eyes*
5 seconds later….
“Excuse me, are you guys taking applications?”
Blurred sexiness
Girl at the coat check:
“Can I check my bag? Be careful, it’s real Coach.”
John:
“We all rock Hermes. Even a homeless gay won’t care about your $10 bag.”
2am:
“John do you need to sleep over my place so you don’t have to drive all the way home?”
“Not necessary Babe. I’m going to meet a hot guy and I’m letting him take me home so he can blow me.”
“Good for you for having a plan.”
“Everyone needs goals. I should’ve been a high school guidance counselor.”
Another great night out then?
Absolutely. Gay friends are the best!
You had a great time, and managed to remember it- bonus!
I only remembered half, don’t give me too much credit!